Chapter 17

           ThatFridaymadethelastofourfinedaysforamonth.Intheevening,theweatherbroke:thewindshiftedfromsouthtonorth-east,andbroughtrainfirst,andthensleetandsnow.Onthemorrowonecouldhardlyimaginethattherehadbeenthreeweeksofsummer:theprimrosesandcrocuseswerehiddenunderwintrydrifts;thelarksweresilent,theyoungleavesoftheearlytreessmittenandblackened.Anddreary,andchill,anddismal,thatmorrowdidcreepover!Mymasterkepthisroom;Itookpossessionofthelonelyparlour,convertingitintoanursery:andthereIwas,sittingwiththemoaningdollofachildlaidonmyknee;rockingittoandfro,andwatching,meanwhile,thestilldrivingflakesbuilduptheuncurtainedwindow,whenthedooropened,andsomepersonentered,outofbreathandlaughing!Myangerwasgreaterthanmyastonishmentforaminute.Isupposeditoneofthemaids,andIcried—"Havedone!Howdareyoushowyourgiddinesshere?WhatwouldMr.Lintonsayifheheardyou?"

           "Excuseme!"answeredafamiliarvoice;"butIknowEdgarisinbed,andIcannotstopmyself."

           Withthatthespeakercameforwardtothefire,pantingandholdingherhandtoherside.

           "IhaverunthewholewayfromWutheringHeights!"shecontinued,afterapause;"exceptwhereI’veflown.Icouldn’tcountthenumberoffallsI’vehad.